


Say My Name Aloud

by ClaireBlueSkies



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Bullying, Businessman Victor, Depressed Victor Nikiforov, Depression, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Isso Koe Ga Nakattara AU, M/M, Music, Speech Disorders, Stuttering, Yuuri does his best, adapted from a manga, background OCs - Freeform, janitor Yuuri, probably some love confessions along the way, we love love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-01-30 22:47:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21435952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaireBlueSkies/pseuds/ClaireBlueSkies
Summary: There are two lonely people, working two very different jobs in the same building. They had contented themselves for years with what they had, who they were: Yuuri allows his stutter to stop him from pursuing his dreams, and Victor thinks he can get over the loneliness if he just keeps busy enough.And then the janitor and the businessman meet.An Isso Koe Ga Nakattara AU.(No previous knowledge required.)
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 76
Kudos: 239





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm here again with a multi-chapter fic! I've never adapted a story from another source material, I hope it feels natural to someone who has never read it. I'm planning one chapter per chapter in the manga, so it should be about 6? Probably all about this length.  
So! Um!  
Enjoy!  
PS the title may change, small edits may be made!

Yuuri Katsuki loved his job. He was a janitor, and it wasn’t glamorous, but it settled nicely with his anxiety: repetitive movements, predictability, and best of all, he didn’t have to talk to a single soul (partly because no one bothered to talk to him). His childhood in a small hospitality business made him inclined towards tidiness (his apartment was _spotless_) and he figured he might as well get paid for his nervous ticks to afford the medication that was supposed to suppress them. The office building in which he worked was nice as well. Yuuri liked to watch all the busy people, rushing around and talking to each other in loud, sure voices, knowing no one expected him to chime in. There was one person in particular whose voice he admired the most. He would always speak with such conviction, even with his unique accent no one else in the office had lilting his words. When Yuuri was cleaning the hallways, sometimes he’d hear him at a meeting, presenting and with such fearlessness Yuuri couldn’t help but pause for a moment and peek through the crack in the doorway. Mr. Victor Nikiforov was one of the senior members at the office and he had a lot of respect from his fellow employees. Yuuri could see easily how the man got to be where he was.

Mr. Nikiforov was everything Yuuri wished to be, but he didn’t disillusion himself that that dream could ever be a reality. They may have been walking the same halls, but they were as far away from each as other as they could be, as far as Yuuri was concerned. They lived in separate worlds. But, Yuuri contented himself with admiring Mr. Nikiforov from a distance, without complaint.

His job may not have been incredibly exciting, but it really wasn’t so bad, not at all.

There came a day, however, when his job, his _life,_ became quite a bit more exciting, and it all started with a flash drive that very much did not belong to him.

…

“Excuse me? Sir? I think you dropped this.”

Yuuri had been on his way out for lunch when he heard the woman’s high-heels clacking on the linoleum from quite a distance, but figured (because it had never _not _been the case) that she could not possibly be talking to him. No one here had ever called him _sir. _When a hand settled on his shoulder, he couldn’t help his little jump, or the tensing of his muscles. The woman was kind enough not to mention it, but she did retract her hand quite quickly, uncurling the fingers of the other to reveal a small silver flash drive.

“Ah… uh-”

“I almost stepped on it, I’m so glad I was able to catch up to you.”

“Ngh. N-” _It’s not mine!_

“Bye!”

The woman passed by and walked out the front door with a little wave over her shoulder and Yuuri stood there watching her leave, with a flash drive in his hand that wasn’t his. His fingers trembled slightly as they clenched around it and he sighed to himself. It was always like this.

He was left with a few options. He could maybe get away with just putting it back where the woman found it, but his penchant for cleanliness both in life and in conscience quickly booted that option away. He looked quietly from side to side around the lobby of the building, but the only other person present was the secretary at the welcome desk.

_I’ll just drop it off at the desk for lost-and-found. But… I’ll have to talk to her. _

Yuuri shifted back and forth on his feet, pulling nervously on the straps of his backpack, and took a stilting step towards the desk.

_It’s okay. It’s one sentence. Say, “I think someone dropped this.” _

He took another step.

_But…._

_But, what if I can’t? What if I can’t say it. One stupid sentence. I can’t even say one stupid sentence. Yeah, well, I can’t even say my own name right, what do I expect. Patheti-_

“Excuse me.”

Yuuri blinked back to himself and looked up. He knew that voice very well.

“Could you check if anyone brought in a flash drive?”

Victor Nikiforov stood in front of the welcome desk in his grey three-piece suit, burgundy tie pressed to his throat despite the summer heat coming through the open lobby doors, rustling his silver hair softly. The woman at the desk seemed about as enamored as Yuuri, but unlike Yuuri, she did not hide around the corner to avoid Mr. Nikiforov. The opposite, in fact.

“Oh, hello Mr. Nikiforov! Sure, give me a second and I’ll check for you.” She leaned down to open her desk drawers, tucking her dark hair behind her ear with delicate pale pink fingernails. She paused for a moment and peered up at Mr. Nikiforov through her bangs. “By the way, have you had lunch yet? If you haven’t, I was just about to-”

“I’m busy right now, can you just tell me if it’s here or not?”

“Oh, um, okay! Sorry.”

Yuuri stood with his back to the wall, knowing full well she wasn’t going to find it. He had to hand it to him.

Oh god.

He had to go and hand it to him. What should he say? What words should he use? If he says the wrong thing, or if he _can’t _say the _right_ thing… but before those thoughts could get away from him once more, Mr. Nikiforov stepped out of the building with his phone to his ear and Yuuri was forced to rush after him before he could hail a taxi and drive off.

“It’s not there. No, but I still have a backup copy at home...”

“Ngh.” Yuuri floundered for a moment behind Mr. Nikiforov as a taxi pulled up. Instinctually, he reached out a hand and gently gripped the sleeve of the man’s suit, giving it a little tug.

For the first time, Yuuri was on the other side of a gorgeous blue gaze that made his breath catch and his thoughts stop.

“Yes?”

“Nn-” _Oh my god, I got is attention before I could even think about what to say. Maybe, “here?” Or, wait, maybe I can just give it to him and not say anything._

Mr. Nikiforov sighed impatiently as Yuuri’s throat seized up, his skin beaded with sweat, and his heart beat out of his chest.

“What is it?” he said with a little bit of bite.

_I made him mad, ugh, I’m making such a mess of things. _Yuuri squeezed his hands to his chest, and metal bit into his palms. _The flash drive! I’m here to give him the flash drive. _He inhaled and focused on that (anything but the cold blue of the eyes boring into him).

“Ngh- um. H-here.” He held it out to Mr. Nikiforov with both hands, bowing a little at the waist out of instinct, like he would back in Japan. “Y-Y-You d-dropped this.”

“Oh! Yes. Thanks.” The irritation faded quickly from his countenance as if it hadn’t been there (as if Yuuri wasn’t still feeling the icy burn of it).

There was a pause. The warm wind whistled between the tree leaves.

“Um. Sorry!” Yuuri yelled (which he immediately regretted, why was he sorry? There was probably always something he could be apologizing for, he figured) and gave another bow, turning back towards the door to make his escape.

“Wait!” For the second time in one day, a hand rested on Yuuri’s shoulder.

_This hand is bigger than that woman’s,_ Yuuri thought idly, _and warmer._

“I was so worried when I lost this. Please, let me thank you somehow.”

He stumbled out of the grip and tripped backwards over the threshold into the lobby. “Th-Th-Th,” he took a breath, “Th-That’s o-o-okay!” And then he bolted.

Safely hidden back in the custodial staff locker room, Yuuri pressed his flushed face to the cool metal of his locker door, trying to catch his breath from running. It was a losing battle as each breath he regained got swept away once more as fat tears began to spill from his eyes. He wasn’t _sad, _exactly. Just overwhelmed. And afraid of what Mr. Nikiforov could possibly think of him. And sad. Of course, it had to have been _Mr. Nikiforov _who’d lost that stupid flash drive. He turned, pressed his back to the locker and sank down to the floor, blotting his wet cheeks on the knees of his jeans.

_I bet he thinks I’m such a freak. _

_…_

Victor sat back down in his office chair, swinging side-to-side idly, looking down at his flash drive.

“He ran off,” he mumbled to himself, flicking it open and inserting it into the USB port on his laptop. He clicked open his in-progress file and scrolled aimlessly, eyes unseeing.

“Well… more like I scared him off. I feel like the villain in this scenario.” Victor had very much wanted to thank the young man, who had unknowingly saved his skin, but now he wondered if it may be better to let him be. He didn’t want to make the situation more awkward than it was, but Victor didn’t get to the position he was in by not giving credit where it was due. He could have at least taken him out for lunch (that way he could ensure that he himself would make to time to eat). The man had run back into the building, so he must work there, probably as a part-timer since Victor had never seen him before. But where could he find him? It was a big building; he could work on any of the six floors, in any one of the departments. Victor refocused on the screen in front of him and realized that he’d scrolled to the bottom of the document long ago and was close to glitching out his screen. _That’d be just what I need._

There was a light knock on his door, and he looked up to see Chris leaning in the entrance to his office.

“Hello, _cheri_. You look a little dazed. Did you not find the flash drive?”

Victor cleared his throat and turned to him with a half-smile. “Hm. Well, fortunately, the flash drive was found.”

“That’s great, Victor! Then why so blue?” He walked in and perched on the edge of Victor’s desk. Victor didn’t answer. It was a complex question which would’ve garnered too complex an answer for work hours. “Come out with the gang tonight, hm? We were planning on heading to The Prix for some drinks.” He pouted and batted his thick lashes at Victor “All work and no play makes Vitya a dull boy.”

Victor sighed out a laugh. “No thanks, Chris. I have to make up for the time I lost when this guy was missing.” He tapped the flash drive where it stuck out of his laptop. He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. He could ask Chris if he knew anyone matching the description of the man who had found the flash drive, but he didn’t even want to think about where Chris would run away with that question. He had a rare ability to find both implication and innuendo in absolutely anything. He decided to save it for a last resort. Victor was sure he would stumble upon his savior sometime or another, so he kept his mouth shut to avoid the headache. Looking back up, he found Chris already looking back with a furrow between his (frankly beautiful) brows.

“Well, that’s alright. But don’t go home too late. If not for yourself, then for Makka, okay?” He gave Victor a pinch on the cheek and stood, sauntering away with one last look over his shoulder and a wiggle of his fingers, closing the door behind him.

Chris always knew Victor’s weaknesses, like his sweet baby Makkachin; it was probably for the best he hadn’t asked about the young man with the big brown eyes, blue glasses, and soft black hair (and pretty pink lips).

Victor rolled his chair to the corner to refill his coffee cup, rubbed a tired hand down his face, and got back to work. He’d think about all that later.

And, he’d just have lunch for dinner.

…

At 10:15 that night, there was only one light on, tucked in the back corner, shining out from between half-closed blinds and under the crack in the door.

Victor sighed and pushed back from his desk, stretching his neck to each side and cracking his bones. His eyes had begun to get bleary from devoted concentration and he knew he was due for an appointment with the optometrist, but he was afraid that would be admitting he was getting old. Add glasses to his thinning hair, and he may as well just retire.

He snapped the laptop closed and slid it into his briefcase, placing the flash drive very carefully in his desk drawer. Swinging on his coat and scarf from the hooks by the door, he shut off the lights and left, using the light of the streetlamps filtering in the windows to wind his way between the desks and cubicles and out to the lobby. It had begun to rain sometime during the evening when Victor was locked up in his office, one of those late summer storms with big, cold raindrops indicating the approach of autumn.

Victor didn’t have his umbrella.

_Of course. _

…

Yuuri looked up from his phone and out from under the eaves covering the building entrance, clutching his backpack to his chest. Even protected from the rain, the storm had cooled off the summer night considerably and he shivered in his t-shirt.

He had pulled up the train schedule when he’d finished his shift only to find that they stopped running far earlier than he had expected. It had been a long enough time since he’d last worked the night shift that he had forgotten. He considered just walking home, although that would probably take about an hour at a brisk pace; but the cold rain would drench him by the time he got home, and he’d end up sick, or mugged _and _sick. He couldn’t afford to take off work for no reason (or to be mugged, although he only had his train pass on him, no cash; which, he realized, also meant he couldn’t call a cab).

He sat down on the concrete, leaning against the pillar behind him and pulling a sweatshirt out of his backpack. His shift tomorrow started early, so he figured he’d just… wait until then. Yuuri didn’t mind, just so long as he’d have the time to himself to recharge before he’d have to start another work day. He rustled through his bag and carefully took out the clear file that held his sheet music, clearly well loved, with folded corners and lead marks smudged on the pages.

_This is all I really need. _He smiled to himself and stuck in his earphones, pressing play on the accompaniment and tapping out the tempo on his knee. He hummed quietly into the night air, the sound completely swallowed up by the pounding rain to anyone’s ears but his.

“Hey, it’s you!”

“Hm?” Yuuri almost hadn’t heard him, completely lost in his own head and the music dancing through his ears. He looked up and froze completely.

“You’re the guy from before. What are you doing here?” There stood Victor Nikiforov, the last person Yuuri wanted to see, looking down his nose at him.

Once again, Yuuri’s entire body was overtaken by an intense fight or flight instinct, and his muscles sprung him up and into the downpour in an instant, leaving Mr. Nikiforov standing under the eaves with his hand outstretched, the cuff of his suit getting soaked in the pouring rain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor finds a way to pay his savior back for his help, and an excuse to get to know him better.

Yuuri had imagined many times what it would be like to meet Mr. Nikiforov face-to-face for the first time. He always thought someday he’d be able to meet the man as his equal, and he’d be able to say, “Mr. Nikiforov, I’ve admired you for a long time.”

Mr. Nikiforov would say, “Please, call me Victor.”

And then maybe they’d dance together, and Mr. Niki- _Victor _\- would drive them to his house, and he’d invite him in for a drink, and Yuuri would play his music for Victor and they’d fall in love.

That sounded pretty good to him.

He had never once imagined he’d meet Mr. Nikiforov by first making a fool of himself, and then getting him soaking wet in the rain by being a clumsy idiot.

He had gripped his backpack half-hazardly in his rush, and the contents promptly tumbled out and splashed into a puddle, spraying Mr. Nikiforov with a wave of muddy water, his hand still reaching out after Yuuri.

_Oh shit. _

“I-I’m s-so s-s-s-sorry! I’ll p-pay f-f-for the cl-cleaning fee! I-I-”

“It’s okay.” Mr. Nikiforov bent down and gathered Yuuri’s wet belongings into his arms and held them out to him.

Yuuri stopped abruptly and bowed, grabbing them and clutching them to his chest, effectively soaking his t-shirt through to the skin. He looked up shyly.

“Th-thank you. O-oh! Y-y-your h-hands! Th-they’re w-w-wet. H-h-here.” He stuffed everything back into his bag and pulled a checkered handkerchief from his pocket, still mostly dry, and began to blot the rainwater from Mr. Nikiforov’s hands and sleeves.

It was only then that Yuuri realized that just a few moments ago, he had been set on running away to avoid any more embarrassment (which obviously went very poorly) and now here he was, holding Mr. Nikiforov’s hands between his own. His cheeks burned, and not just from the chill in the air.

_What am I even doing?_

“Are you alright?” Mr. Nikiforov said softly, breaking the monotonous patter of continuing rainfall.

“Hm?”

“What were you doing just sitting there, so late at night?”

“M-m-missed the l-last t-t-t-train. N-no c-c-cash, th-thought I-I-I-I’d j-just wait f-for m-m-morning.” Yuuri shivered as raindrops dripped from his hair down the collar of his shirt.

“Oh! Well, then let me repay you now for your help this morning.” Mr. Nikiforov smiled in a way Yuuri hadn’t ever seen around the office, with a dimple in his cheek and his mouth shaped like a heart. “If you stay out here much longer, you’ll get sick, so why don’t you come over to my apartment for now? It’s close by. You don’t mind dogs, do you?”

“Ngh,” was all Yuuri got about before Mr. Nikiforov barreled on.

“Normally I’d just walk, but let’s take a taxi since it’s raining so badly, and I don’t have my umbrella.” He slapped his forehead as if he was ashamed to admit it, but Yuuri didn’t have his umbrella either. Mr. Nikiforov raised his other into the air and hailed a taxi to their corner, opening the door and turning back to Yuuri. His face froze suddenly and he tilted his head.

“I-if you want. Sorry, I don’t mean to be creepy, you don’t have to-”

Before Mr. Nikiforov could say another word, Yuuri pulled his backpack to his chest once more and rushed through the rain into the shelter of the taxi, Mr. Nikiforov following close behind. He filled the cab with the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body, and Yuuri felt like he could fall asleep right then and there. As he began to nod off, he felt the weight of a wool coat covering his body, and the delicious smell of Mr. Nikiforov’s cologne curled around him and into his dreams.

…

Victor looked over to the man sleeping beside him, bits of rain still drying from his eyelashes and his nose still pink from the cold, and felt his heart beat a little faster. He didn’t know the man’s name, and although he could’ve just given him money for a cab and sent him on his way, he couldn’t help himself but to invite him to his home. He could no longer tell himself this was because of his good and pure intentions to repay him for his help earlier today. He was selfish; by all costs, by the end of this day, he would know the man’s name (at the very least). Then, maybe, he could continue unwrapping the mystery of his dark-haired savior.

The taxi cab pulled to a stop in front of his building and Victor turned to his guest, still sleeping next to him, with his glasses pushed off to the side of his head, leaving imprints in his skin. He touched his arm lightly.

“We’re here,” Victor whispered as the man’s eyes opened up blearily.

“Mm?”

“We’re here,” Victor repeated, a little louder.

“Oh!” The man shot up, and his glasses fell back into place. “S-s-sorry! I d-d-d-didn’t m-mean t-to fall a-a-asleep.”

“That’s alright. Come on up and we’ll dry you off.” Victor held out his hand to him and helped him out of the car. The man was still wrapped in his wool coat, his small frame practically drowning in the fabric as he clutched at the lapels with his fist. Victor smiled at the sight of him and they walked together to the front door of the apartment building, and into the elevator. Victor pressed the button for the eleventh floor.

“Oh, I forgot, I never got your answer. Are you okay with dogs? I have a poodle, her name’s Makkachin and she’s very sweet so there’s nothing to worry about, I promise!” It occurred to him that he should probably be embarrassed at his own rambling, but it brought a small smile to the man’s face so he figured at least he didn’t seem to mind.

“I l-l-love d-dogs. I h-have a p-p-p-poodle too. A l-little o-one. H-his n-name is V-V-V-V- ngh- s-sorry. H-his n-name is V-Vicchan.”

“That’s so cute! A little Makkachin! Aren’t poodles the best? I don’t know what I’d do without my best girl…” Victor continued on until the elevator dinged and they stepped out, and was just finishing the story of Makka and his first meeting as he got his keys out of his pocket and opened the door.

“Welco-”

There was a blur of brown fuzz and suddenly his guest was no longer standing next to him, but sprawled like he was making a snow angel into the carpet of the hallway.

Victor could have _died._

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, she’s not usually much of jumper!” But once Victor’s heartbeat calmed back down to normal levels, it was immediately jump-started again by the sound of his savior’s tinkling laugh.

“G-good g-g-girl! G-good M-Makka,” he cooed at her, scruffing under her chin and rubbing her belly since he had good access anyway. When he noticed Victor staring, his wide smile became shy again and he gently pushed Makkachin off of his stomach so he could stand up.

“S-s-sorry, I l-l-love d-d-dogs. I h-haven’t s-seen V-V-V-Vicchan in a l-long t-t-time. H-he l-l-lives b-back in J-Japan w-with my f-f-family.” He shuffled inside the apartment, Makkachin trotting in behind him with her tail wagging like a windmill.

“That’s okay. More than okay, that was adorable.”

Predictably (since Victor was noticing a pattern), the man flushed bright red and turned away to hide his cheeks. Victor could still see the tips of his ears burning, and bit his bottom lip to hide his smile.

_Absolutely adorable._

The man shivered, still clutching his backpack to his chest and Victor’s coat in his fist, Makkachin whining when droplets of water fell on her nose as she snuffled around his feet. Victor tried to wrangle his wandering mind back into order so that he could at least be a good host.

“Please sit down, anywhere is fine. I’m going to put on some water for tea, and get you a towel.”

…

Yuuri watched Mr. Nikiforov leave and looked around the apartment. It was sensible, if a little cold; it was clean, but perhaps ‘sterile’ would be a better word. It was like the Mr. Nikiforov he knew from work, not the poodle-loving, rambling man who had saved him from a night in the rain.

Placing his backpack in the corner and the coat on the coat hanger, he decides it’s best to just sit on the floor and avoid getting his probably very expensive couch wet. When Mr. Nikiforov comes back in, though, wearing a clean shirt and sweatpants, it takes him a moment to find Yuuri off to the side and he looks confused.

“Why are you sitting on the floor?” He walks over to where Yuuri’s crouched by the coffee table and lays a fluffy towel over Yuuri’s head, hiding his eyes.

“S-sorry. I-I d-didn’t w-want to g-g-get the c-couch wet.”

Yuuri feels warm hands on his head, rubbing the towel through his hair carefully and dabbing his cheeks. Mr. Nikiforov lifts the towel up and their eyes meet.

“Is that so?”

Mr. Nikiforov is smiling at him again, talking in that soft voice as if Yuuri mattered. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why the man would think anything of the sort. All he’d done so far was ruin his suit, stutter at him incomprehensibly, and run away (with varying degrees of success, given their current proximity).

“Ngh. Um. D-Do you th-th-think I’m w-w-weird?”

Mr. Nikiforov paused the movements of his hands. “Why would I think you’re weird?”

“B-B-B-Because of m-my s-st-stutter. I-I kn-know it’s a-a-annoying t-to t-talk to m-me. I t-t-try h-h-hard b-but I c-can’t s-speak w-well n-n-no m-matter what.”

Mr. Nikiforov shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged in front of Yuuri.

“Is that why you ran away from me?”

Yuuri nods, shoulder hunched up to his neck and eyes boring determinably into the floor.

“That doesn’t really bother me, though I do tend to be an impatient person.” Mr. Nikiforov said, still holding the towel cradled loosely around the back of Yuuri’s head. “But, if I had to choose, I’d much rather talk with someone like you who chooses their words carefully than someone who just chatters on to fill the silence. I can understand you perfectly fine.”

A few years ago, Yuuri left Japan and moved to Detroit to escape the thundercloud of Hasetsu he grew up under. He was bullied mercilessly for his stutter, and was never able to get out a word in his own defense. He soon realized, though, that the thundercloud was not attached to Hasetsu, but rather hovered above his own head, even half-way around the world, choking his words before they could climb out of his throat. In a few words, Mr. Nikiforov had managed to let a beam of light between the clouds to warm the skin on his face, for the first time since Yuuri had left his family and his dog behind.

_He understands me, he said._

For the second time in one day, Mr. Nikiforov made Yuuri cry, but this time Yuuri didn’t run. He smiled up at Mr. Nikiforov with teardrops stuck to his lashes and said, “Yes,” a simple word that bared his heart to the man before him.

Mr. Nikiforov made a little noise in the back of his throat that Yuuri didn’t know how to translate, and he pressed the towel lightly to Yuuri’s eyes to dry his tears. The thumb of his right hand drifted delicately from the fabric and onto his skin, warming a comforting trail from his cheek to his lips. He looked lost, gaze focused on his thumb as it lightly pulled Yuuri’s lip down, exposing his tongue tucked behind his teeth. Yuuri stared back at him, breath puffing lightly over his fingers.

Then the moment passed. Mr. Nikiforov blinked and sat back quickly, as if suddenly regaining consciousness. He cleared his throat, and left the towel hanging around Yuuri’s neck. It was only with the space between them again that Yuuri realized there were butterflies fluttering wildly in his stomach.

“Ah. Sorry. Don’t mind me.”

Yuuri wondered to himself, slightly hysterically, if maybe he’d had something on his face.

“By the way, I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“Oh! S-Sorry! M-My n-n-name is K-K-K-K… ngh….”

His name. He hated saying his name the most. It seemed the most paramount of his failures to be unable to say the name is parents gave him.

“K-K-K-K-Katsuki.”

“And?”

“Huh?”

“What’s your first name? We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“Oh….” _Friends. _“Y-Yuuri.”

“I see. Yuuri it is, then! My name is Victor Nikiforov. Please, call me Victor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had this at 6 chapters, but I split the manga chapter in half. We'll see what the final chapter count is, but it'll be close to 6 in any case.   
Hope you enjoyed! <3
> 
> xo Claire


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The work day begins again.

Yuuri came into work on Monday with a smile on his face. He changed his clothes quietly in the locker room, replaying his and Victor’s conversation again in his head. He ducked his face into the fabric of his shirt as he pulled it over his head to hide the blush blossoming on his cheeks, remembering his words.

_“We’re friends now, aren’t we?”_

He removed his shirt all the way and buttoned on his uniform, biting his lip to keep his smile from growing too conspicuous.

“He really pisses me off.”

“You talking about Nikiforov?”

Yuuri paused, shirt half buttoned. His back was turned to his co-workers and he slowly restarted buttoning his uniform, listening surreptitiously.

“He ignored me completely when I went in his office to clean up after him. People like that don’t give a shit about people like us, as if we’re stupid just because we don’t have a big high-paying job like him. Didn’t even look at me.”

Yuuri couldn’t imagine that they were talking about _Victor _Nikiforov. But, Yuuri considered, he had been quite cold at first, short-tempered and impatient. Victor was just like him; he may seem arrogant or closed-off, but you just had to take the time to get to know him. _“These people don’t know what they’re talking about,” _Yuuri thought to himself as they grabbed their supplies and walked out of the locker room.

_Brrrrrr. Brrrrrr. Brrrrrr. _

Yuuri’s boss, Celestino stumbled into the room pushing a bucket of dirty water and tripping over the fronds of a mop.

“Yuuri!” he called, rushing by and out the back way. “I’m a little busy at the moment, can you get the phone?”

At this point, Yuuri had stopped smiling completely.

His hand shook as he reached out for the phone, sweat forming on his brow even before he put it to his ear.

_“Hi, it’s Michele, from security?”_

“Ngh-”

_“Hello? Can you hear me?” _

“H-H-”

A sigh filtered through the phone, whistling into Yuuri’s ears and making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

CLICK. _Eeeeeeee…._

Yuuri jumped at the sound of the phone being banged down on the receiver. Celestino chose that moment to walk back into the room.

“What did they want?”

Yuuri wanted to melt onto the concrete and be mopped up with the rest of the messes the janitors cleaned up on the daily.

“S-Sorry! I-I-I-I c-couldn’t s-speak over the ph-phone s-s-so they h-hung up.”

“Ah, I forgot you’re a stutterer. Well, no matter. They’ll call back if it’s really important.”

“S-s-sorry.”

“Nah, that’s okay. Sorry to make you do that. Maybe just think of it as practice! Next time, you can try calming yourself down before you answer, and speaking slowly. I’m sure you’ll have no problem!” Celestino slapped him on the shoulder strongly enough to make him stumble, and left Yuuri alone in the locker room.

_“That’s not the problem,”_ Yuuri thought. It wasn’t that he couldn’t speak because he was nervous; he was nervous because he couldn’t speak.

He slammed his locker shut with a little more force than necessary, and got to work.

…

“Yuuri!”

Victor could see a small smile grace Yuuri’s face in the reflection on the window he was cleaning even before he turned around.

“V-V-Vic- um. Yes?”

“You’re okay to get home today, right?”

Victor tried his best not to be a little disappointed when Yuuri nodded yes.

“That’s good. If there’s ever any problem, you’re welcome to stay at my place again,” he said, reaching up next to Yuuri’s head and leaning lightly into his space to catch a drop of soapy water on the window before it could run a track on the shiny glass. He smiled at Yuuri watching him with his ears flushed.

“O-oh! Okay! Um, th-thank you.”

“Well. I’m off, back to work. Have a good day, Yuuri.” Victor pushed back his bangs in a move that he prayed came off as casual and winked, turning on his heel and walking away before he could see Yuuri’s reaction.

But not before he heard his cute little gasp.

Victor walked back to his office with a bounce in his step.

…

Yuuri watched Victor until he turned the corner and was out of his line of sight. He turned back to the lobby window, allowing the repetitive movements of cleaning to calm his heart. He was tempted to press his face to the cool glass to temper his blush, but then he’d have to clean it again.

_Victor is so kind to me._

The conversation Yuuri had overheard that morning just didn’t make sense, Yuuri decided, and he smiled.

_They just don’t know him like I do._

“Hey, Mr. Janitor?” A hand rapped on the glass by his face, a far less gentle gesture than Victor’s a few minutes earlier.

Yuuri looked behind him and found himself face to face with the secretary Victor had talked to about the flash drive and another woman, a blonde he’d seen working around the office. Her arm remained up, caging him in as she tapped her pink nails on the windowpane.

“Can I bother you for a moment?”

Yuuri tilted his head in question.

“I’ve seen you chatting with Victor a lot recently. Are you guys close?”

Had Victor said the secretary could call him by his first name too, Yuuri wondered? Maybe he let everyone call him that. Although, she had called him Mr. Nikiforov just the other day. He shook his head.

“N-Not r-r-real-”

“You know… he never talks to anybody he doesn’t have to. Especially not us part-timers. We just want to know how you got him to open up to you.

“We want to talk to him, too!” the blonde woman added. They smiled at him, saccharine.

“I-I-I just p-picked u-up something he d-d-dropped.”

“Oh, that flash drive, huh? That can’t be all though, right?”

The blond woman leaned in closer. “What about hobbies or something? Do you come from the same area?”

“I-I’m not s-s-sure,” Yuuri stuttered, shrinking into himself.

The secretary’s nails stopped their tapping for a moment as she considered him closely. “You know… you’re acting so weird. Like we’re bullying you or something.”

“N-!”

“Let’s go. I don’t know what Victor’s thinking, getting involved with someone like you.” They turned and their heels clacked away on the linoleum, pounding away at Yuuri’s newly-growing headache.

He’d traveled half-way across the world to get away from this kind of shit.

_And now I’ve gotten Victor involved by being associated with me. He doesn’t deserve any of this._

Tracks of soapy water dried on the glass behind him, clouding the window once more.

…

When Victor saw Yuuri again, he was standing in front of the same window he had been a half hour earlier when he passed by the first time. Victor had gotten up to refresh his coffee from the machine on the other side of the floor because “it’s fresher,” or so he told Chris. Really, the coffee next to his own office was probably fine, but he wouldn’t know because he’d spent all day walking back and forth from his desk to the other coffee machine hoping to catch a glimpse of Yuuri. He may have been a little over-caffeinated, but at least he was getting in a workout.

“Yuuri!” he called again, hoping to be gifted with his sweet smile again, but this time Yuuri didn’t even turn to look at him. He was frozen, with a rag in his hand, looking out into the grey parking lot.

“Yuuri? Are you alright? You don’t look so well.” He tugged lightly on Yuuri’s hand where it rested tiredly at his side.

“Y-Y-You sh-shouldn’t b-b-bother with me.”

Victor froze, gripping Yuuri’s hand more tightly. “What do you mean?”

“I-I kn-know I-I’m not n-n-normal. I-I’m not l-l-like you. I can’t t-take advantage of y-your k-k-kindness anymore. P-People w-will th-think you’re a f-f-f… ngh. A f-freak like me.”

Yuuri pulled his hand delicately from Victor’s fingers.

“P-Please. S-stop approaching me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :,(   
Sometimes it feels a little unnatural to me, writing what was written in the manga. I liked it a lot, but I think I would structure the story differently if I was making it up completely.  
No matter!   
I hope you enjoyed! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They miss each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta da!

Yuuri was sick to his stomach. He’d been sick to his stomach for days. It was a deep, queasy feeling he couldn’t escape from. From time to time it would simmer into something he could ignore, but it would always squeeze again and leave him more breathless than before.

It took Yuuri a few days to understand that that feeling was guilt. He didn’t understand; he’d made a decision he had thought was in Mr. Nikiforov’s favor, and yet he was feeling _guilt_. It’s not as if he _wanted _Victor to ignore him, he just wanted him to be happy. And if that was without Yuuri, then so be it.

But why did it make Yuuri want to throw up just to rid himself of that queasy ache?

Other feelings he could ignore, like sadness or loneliness; he’d known them long enough not to bemoan their existence. But guilt was something that Yuuri felt _must _be absolved, if only Yuuri could understand how he could.

Going to work became a painful experience, a push and pull of wishing to see Victor, to apologize, to explain, and to avoid ever seeing him again.

It was in times like these, when communication was vital, that he resented his stutter the most.

Yuuri let his backpack slump from his back onto the bench with a bang, opening it up place his folded clothes inside, only to realize one of his books had gone missing.

_Karma_, Yuuri couldn’t help but think.

…

Victor had a headache. He’d had it for days, pulsing in his temples and blurring his vision at the edges, narrowing down his sensory input and making his work slow-moving and tepid. Every time his email dinged his brain throbbed, and yet every email was _not_ the one he was waiting for. There were figures and data missing from accounting, despite his high-priority messages, and if he just had that, he could take his lunch break and maybe down a couple of pain killers.

He stood up with a sigh and stepped into the outer office.

“Chris?”

“Hm?” Christ turned his chair from his desk to look at Victor, a pen stuck behind his ear and his fingers still typing for a moment before petering off.

“Have you heard from accounting?”

“Ah, no, not yet. Want me to go check?”

“No, I’ll just go. I could use the break.”

Victor was briefly reminded of his daily walks across the office building to get the “good” coffee, and subsequently, he was reminded of Yuuri. Fortunately, accounting was next door and he wouldn’t have to risk seeing Yuuri and controlling his own instinct to reach out to him. Yuuri’s big, sorrowful eyes from the last time they spoke drifted behind Victor’s vision as he blinked. He crossed through the doorway and was about to knock on the frame when he heard Mila sniping at a blonde woman whose name Victor could never recall.

“You’ll need a promotion first, honey.”

Victor decided he’d call her Honey.

“No!” the blonde woman exclaimed, cheeks flushed and hair flouncing as she shook her head. “I just need to find something in common to talk about with him. The janitor we talked to said he was cheering me on, and Victor likes _him _fine, so-!”

Victor coughed.

“Mila.”

The red-head looked up at him and smiled, seeming quite relieved to be released from Honey’s antics. About him.

“Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Mila said. Honey blushed brightly and sipped her coffee. “What can I do for you, Victor?”

“We’re missing the consolidated data sheet. Apparently, it was never sent; do you know where it is?”

“Yes, accounting sent it to econ, so- ”

“Hi! Yes! That’s me!” The Honey piped up.

What the heck was her name? Actually, he wasn’t sure he knew anyone’s name from the econ department.

She barreled on, oblivious to Mila’s obvious attempts to cut her off. Victor felt his very skull throb.

“Oh noooo! If I knew that high-priority message came from you, I would’ve put it at the top of my to-do list!”

He lifted his lips, like he would if he were smiling. “Well, you should keep to deadlines no matter where or who the request comes from.”

“Oh, definitely!”

“We need it by tomorrow morning, can you get it to us today?”

“I’m a very fast worker, but it’s the end of the month you know, so I may not have time until tonight.” She paused and looked up at Victor, leaning into his space and hiding her lips demurely behind her coffee cup. “But… if you maybe went out to dinner with me, I’d probably be able to work a bit harder….”

Victor’s stomach squeezed. This woman was _bartering_ with him for a date. He questioned her self-esteem, and his own image for anyone to think he would accept to be solicited this way. Before he could stop himself, he found himself thinking of his doe-eyed Yuuri.

_He would never act with such pretense. _

“Never mind,” he ended up biting out.

He decided it would be best to ignore her proposition and address the business at hand only, avoiding looking at the woman as he turned to Mila.

“Can you send me the numbers? I’ll just put it together myself.”

Honey gasped, putting her coffee on the desk and flailing her hands around. “No, Victor, I could probably get it done by this evening if I try hard!”

“No, thanks. And I don’t remember giving you permission to call me by my first name. That’s reserved for my friends.” He turned on his heel and walked away, calling over his shoulder. “I suggest that first you should have Mila teach you to reflect on your mistakes and follow through on your work.” He closed the door behind him to cut off whatever their reactions might have been.

He was definitely going to need those painkillers.

…

It was raining again. It helped because it meant that Yuuri was constantly busy, mopping up puddles and putting out “slippery when wet” signs. It hurt because it reminded Yuuri of a certain evening with a certain man who had been so kind to him and accepted him into his home.

_Will I ever be able to talk with him again?_

He wanted so desperately to apologize, and maybe get a hug? He leaned on his mop, blushing and staring off into space. But this was his own fault. He had said he didn’t want to be approached, and Mr. Nikiforov had been kind enough to listen. There was a fundamental difference between the two of them that would only cause problems if they were to be close. This was for Victor, he told himself.

He knew that losing that book of his must have been karma. He wouldn’t let things get any worse, for either of them.

…

“That’s all for the year. You’ve done a good job with your work, Victor,” Yakov grumbled, leaning back in his big leather chair. “Although….” He steepled his fingers, giving Victor an appraising look.

“Yes?”

“I’ve gotten… complaints about your attitude. People say you’re cold, that you don’t even bother remembering their names.”

“None of the people I work with has mentioned anything to me.”

“I mean outside of Mila and Chris. I know you’re all friends. I’m talking about other people around the office. Apparently, you made a woman from econ cry?”

Victor blinked. That blonde lady? He made _her_ cry? Honestly, if he was in the habit of crying at work, that whole insulting interaction would have been the breaking point.

“I understand she has work issues of her own, but since you’re in a management position, you should try to at least try to not make it more difficult for anyone, hm Victor?”

Victor blinked again.

Yakov sighed.

“You are dismissed.”

Chris and Mila were waiting for him outside the door when he left Yakov’s office, Mila giving him a pat on the back as they walked back to the elevator for their floor.

“You luck glum, _cheri. _Bad news from the boss?” Chris said, linking his arm with Victor’s.

“No, not really.” He sighed heavily. “Am I really that difficult to approach?”

Chris and Mila stopped abruptly and Victor nearly tripped over himself. He turned to them with a raised eyebrow.

“You didn’t know that? Are you kidding?” Mila said incredulously. “Listen, Victor, there’s a lot of people in this office who look up to you. Or want to sleep with you. Or both. They come to Chris and I and ask us how to get closer to you since you’re such a hardass. If either of us get too friendly with you when they’re around, they get jealous and snarky.” She poked Victor in the chest. “The least you could do is stop wearing such tight Armani pants every day and make our work life a little easier.”

“Oh my god,” Victor mumbled to himself. “Don’t tell me they got to Yuuri….”

“Long story short,” Chris chirped, “Try saying hi every once in a while! And stop furrowing your eyebrows, it ages you.”

…

“Yuuri!” Celestino called. “You can go home once you’re done mopping the entranceway. Thanks for your hard work.”

“O-okay! Thanks!”

Down the hallway he heard the familiar tapping of high heels and twitched, flicking his eyes up quickly. The secretary and blonde woman from before were walking towards him. He mopped the floor mechanically and prayed they’d just walk by. They parted around him like a river around a stone and Yuuri exhaled.

“I haven’t seen Victor with the janitor recently.”

_Of course I’m not that lucky, _he thought, but didn’t turn to look at them, keeping his head bowed.

“I guess he realized that there was no point in spending time with someone like that.”

His grip on the mop handle tightened until his knuckles were white and tears began to prick behind his eyes. He wished he could tell them it was all his fault; they shouldn’t think of Victor that way—

“You’re wrong.”

Yuuri’s heart skipped a beat as a familiar melodic voice reached his ears.

Victor stood in front of him like a shield, close enough that he could feel his body heat on his cheeks.

“He’s just trying to be mindful of me.”

The women took a step back from them, eyes wide. The secretary grabbed the blonde woman’s arm and pulled, whispering to her to leave it be.

She pulled herself away forcefully and turned on the pair, skirt twirling with her. “Why does he get your attention?! You don’t even work together, and then you’re so cold to me!” the blonde woman burst out. “What’s the difference between us? Between me and that twitchy, gloomy, freak!” She surged forward, hair flying like a mane, gripping Yuuri’s arm. Her nails dug into his sleeve and dented his skin.

Suddenly there was a warm arm around his back, shutting out any other touch, and Yuuri found himself falling forward, until his forehead was pressed against Victor’s chest protectively.

_Guess I’ll get that hug after all, _Yuuri thought as his heartbeat thudded in his ears. Or maybe that was Victor’s heartbeat?

“Yuuri is nothing like that. He’s kind, meticulous, attentive, and he treats everyone equally. He’s a genuinely good human being. He does his work, and he doesn’t lash out at people and attack them.” Victor’s tone was icy, and Yuuri imagined his eyes had turned as stormy as the weather outside.

There was the harsh sound of a _slap _and Yuuri felt the impact tremor through Victor and into him. He looked up to see Victor’ head forced to the side and a red handprint staining his beautiful pale skin, making the blue of his eyes stand out even more.

Yuuri pulled back, shocked, trying to say something, _anything. _This had to stop.

“Ngh!”

“How much are you going to trample over my feelings until you’re satisfied!” The woman was crying now, and her arms flew out again at them.

Yuuri’s hand moved before he could think, gripping her wrist and halting her trajectory before she could hit Victor again.

“Let go!” she screamed. “This isn’t about you! You don’t understand at all!!”

As she cried and jerked her arm, Yuuri was struck with a realization.

_She’s just like me. She can’t give up on the man she likes. If I could speak to her normally, maybe we could have something in common. I must- I have to say it! Please, let me just say it!_

“Ngh- I-I-I…” The woman stopped jerking, just sniffling and staring at Yuuri like _he_ was the one who had slapped _her_. “I-I-I u-understand h-h-how y-you f-f-feel!” He exhaled in a whoosh and looked her in the eye. “Y-Y-You c-c-can’t g-give u-up on the o-one y-you l-l-like, e-even when y-you f-f-feel p-p-p-powerless. B-But v-violence isn’t the a-answer! Y-Y-You’re j-just r-rejecting y-y-your own f-feelings!”

He swung around and faced Victor.

“A-And you!” Victor looked shocked, maybe at Yuuri’s outburst, maybe to be included in his ire. “You sh-shouldn’t t-t-treat th-those who l-like you a-as i-i-if th-they d-d-d-don’t exist. It’s c-c-cruel.” He inhaled and coughed explosively. His throat hurt, his lungs were squeezing around the air between them uselessly. He grabbed Victor’s wrist to try to keep himself upright, and Victor slid his hand up to grasp Yuuri’s and squeeze.

“You’re right.” Victor stepped forward. “I realized your feelings for me, and I disregarded them. I’m sorry that I hurt you.” He bowed his head.

The woman stared, teardrops pearling her long lashes, hair falling out of the clips keeping it out of her face. She closed her eyes and the tears fell down her face, growing in number, soaking her cheeks. She grabbed the secretary and pulled her away, practically running down the hallway.

“W-Wait!” the brunette called as she was dragged away by her friend.

“Let’s go!” The two of them disappeared around the corner without a glance back.

The hallway was suddenly quiet.

“Yuuri….” Victor reached out to Yuuri, but Yuuri backed away, still coughing shakily into his fist. He lowered his hand. “Are you still not talking to me?”

“I-I-I’m s-so s-sorry a-about that. But, but, w-when y-y-you’re with m-me, th-they think y-you’re a f-f-freak, too. I-I don’t want th-that.”

Victor placed his finger lightly under Yuuri’s chin and lifted it so he could look into his eyes.

“In the end, I’ve just been acting selfishly. Yuuri, please; can you give me another chance?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taa daaa!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some bonding!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a cutie!

The convenience store was closed, which meant Yuuri had to order lunch somewhere, or go hungry (which he was seriously considering, but a voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother wouldn’t let him). He ended up in Starbucks, with a line stretching both in front of him and behind him and the loud buzz of other patrons making him twitchy.

_Green tea. Tall._

He practiced his order in his head as the counter loomed before him, snagging a sandwich from the cooler without really seeing what it was.

_Green tea. Tall_

The woman behind the counter looked nice and cheerful, so that was good. Sometimes if the cashier was in a bad mood, they’d get snappy at him for taking too long. He stepped forward.

“Hi, what can I get for you?”

“Um, g-green t-t-tea?”

“What size?”

“T-T-T-T… ngh…”

_Fuck._

He coughed into his fist, feeling the sweat that had begun to bead on his upper lip.

“Ngh—t-t-”

“He’ll have a tall.” A warm hand settled on his shoulder and he turned to see Victor standing behind him. “And I’ll have a tall coffee. Thanks.”

The hand slid down his shoulders to the small of his back, leading him gently to a table off to the side.

“I saw you come in here from outside,” Victor said, hanging his suit jacket on the back of his chair. “I hope I didn’t overstep by speaking up.”

“N-No! Y-You h-hel… ngh. S-Sorry. Oh! I’ll p-pay you b-b-back--”

“Don’t worry about it, Yuuri. It’s as thanks for helping resolve that mess the other day.”

_Which was partially my fault, _Yuuri resisted saying.

“B-B-But i-if you’re seen w-with m-m-me, y-you might g-get in t-t-trouble again.”

“Please, Yuuri. I don’t want you to worry about that. They don’t bother me.” He stood when their order was called and brought their drinks back to the table, but stopped just before he sat down again. “Oh. Unless… am I being a bother to you?”

Yuuri shook his head with as much conviction as he could without throwing his glasses from his nose. “I-I’ve always wanted t-to t-t-talk to you. So- So I-I’m happy.” He desperately needed Victor to know that.

That he makes him happy.

Victor smiled back at him, and it was like they were back in his apartment, alone together and wet from the rain with the blue of Victor’s eyes warming Yuuri from the inside out.

“Th-Thank you for h-helping. The “t-t-t-ta” sound is v-very hard for m-me, especially when I-I’m p-panicking. I a-almost ordered the l-largest size.”

“Oh!” Victor yelled suddenly, making Yuuri jump a little. “I think you left a book at my place! A music book? I’ve been holding on to it for you.”

_Karma, indeed. But, perhaps the good kind?_

“Y-yes! I-It’s a musical s-score for the o-orchestra. I p-play the violin.”

“The violin? Wow, amazing! I’d love to hear you play sometime! What about when you come over to get your book?” Victor leaned in, resting his cheek in his hand and looking at Yuuri with his sparkling eyes, and Yuuri couldn’t have said no even if he wanted to.

And he very much did not want to.

…

“Hi!”

Yuuri looked up, pulling the earphones out of his ears, letting the bustle of the train station rush back into his senses.

“V-Victor! Hi!”

Victor was dressed down for his day off, in a striped t-shirt and jeans, one hand raised in greeting and all eyes drawn to him.

“You brought your violin!”

“Y-Yes.”

“I can’t wait,” he smiled, turning towards the exit with a wink over his shoulder.

Victor’s long legs carried him away from Yuuri quickly in the time it took Yuuri to come back to his senses after that wink, and he had to run a little to catch up to him.

“S-Sorry!” he puffed. 

“That’s alright, Yuuri,” Victor said, and placed a hand on Yuuri’s back behind the violin case, where it curved naturally into his hips, and they walked together that way into the smog of the city, side by side.

“I noticed you were listening to music. You do that often, don’t you? Is it classical?”

“Y-Yes. B-But actually I d-don’t listen t-to music that m-much. T-The main pur-purpose is to a-avoid conversation.” Yuuri blushed heavily.

_Ugh, that sounded so rude._

“B-But! I also l-listen to c-classical music!” he clarified. And Victor, bless him, moved on. He allowed the conversation to flow and swirl as if in a duet, listening well and speaking with clarity. Yuuri found himself talking, gesticulating, conversing, and _happy_. Those things were not supposed to go together, that’s what he’d learned his whole life; but he wanted to sink deeply into this foreign feeling with Victor’s hand on his back and the breeze on his face.

…

Victor sat transfixed, with Makkachin resting her head on his knee and sunlight streaming through the window and onto the vision before him.

Yuuri was playing the violin, swaying and moving as if the music was coming from his very body. His eyes were half-lidded and the light flickered in his hair, turning it a deep auburn and making his eyes burn golden. The performance was beautiful; it required _Yuuri _as much as the violin to create magic, and Victor was swept away in his storm.

When the sound ceased, there was no movement for a moment as the air around them settled once again into the reality of Sunday afternoon. Yuuri breathed out softly, lowering the violin from his chin and dipping his head to Victor in a bow as he sat in front of him on the floor. He placed his violin back in its case as Makkachin hopped off the couch and licked at his face, whapping her tail on Victor’s leg as she settled pressed against his side.

It took Victor the entirety of that time to regain his voice and all he said was, “Wow.”

Yuuri laughed shyly, burying his hands in Makkachin’s fur.

“I h-haven’t p-p-played in front of o-others of a-awhile, so I’m g-glad you l-liked it. I-It was my entrance e-exam s-s-song. B-But I e-ended up q-q-quitting.”

“Why? Is it that difficult, even when you played it so well?”

“W-Well, b-besides the p-practical, there’s an i-interview. I c-c-couldn’t do it.” His hands stopped, clenched in Makka’s curls.

“Was there no way around it?”

“M-My stuttering isn’t c-considered s-severe enough to b-be a handicap. S-So I had to d-do the same exam as e-everyone else. And….”

He trailed off. Victor could see the way his eyes became unfocused as if he were slipping away, no longer present, and it frightened Victor. He placed a hand on Yuuri’s head, pushing his hair back gently. It seemed to do the trick, as Yuuri blinked and came back to himself, blushing beautifully.

_There’s my Yuuri._

“I’m s-sorry to bring th-that up.”

“No, I appreciate that you told me. I want you to feel like you can tell me anything. But Yuuri, in an art school, the interview isn’t half as important as the practical. Perhaps… perhaps you gave up a little too quickly?”

“No, I-I’m fine with m-my life righ-right now,” he smiled into this lap, hiding his eyes. Victor decided to tuck that away for another time.

“Ah, that’s right! I almost forgot.” He grabbed Yuuri’s music book from the bookshelf and handed it to him as he sat back down on the couch.

“Th-Thank you!”

“And, here. For you.” Victor had bought a book cover in the stationary shop between the office and home, and he held it out for Yuuri now. “You hold your music so dear, you should keep it safe.”

“I-I c-couldn’t—”

“Please, Yuuri. I would like you to have it.”

Yuuri took it with a faint tremor in his hands and tucked it to his chest like it was a treasure. “Ngh. S-Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Just say ‘thank you,’ I think.”

“S-sorry. I j-just… sh-short words are b-better. ‘S-sorry’ is easy to say.”

“Hm. Then, maybe just, ‘thanks?’ Is that easier than ‘thank you?’ It’s only one syllable.”

Yuuri ducked his head down and for one moment, Victor was terrified he had made Yuuri cry (again). But then he turned his head back up like a flower unfurling its petals.

Yuuri positively beamed at him, smiling with blushing cheeks and said, “Thanks!” and Victor wanted to hug him and kiss him and tell him how amazing he was.

He settled on saying, “You’re welcome.”

“V-V-… w-why doesn’t a-anyone understand how n-nice you are?”

“Ah, well,” Victor mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re not wrong. I’m pretty cold to others.” He paused. “Oh….”

_Whoops. Vitya’s terrible memory strikes again._

“I think… I think I forgot to say- well, at least in so many words,” Victor muttered. He sat up straight, looked Yuuri in the eye and said, “I’m warm with you because I really like you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri stared at him and despite his tremendous urge to fidget, Victor stared back.

“I’m…” Yuuri started, and Victor held his breath.

“I’m so happy.” The air left Victor’s lungs in a _whoosh, _making his bangs flutter over his eye.

“You know,” he said, slipping off the couch and onto his knees, reaching forward to hold Yuuri’s hands in his, “I don’t normally care what others think of me. But you- I desperately want you think well of me.” With their hands clasped between them and Makkachin nose butting at their knees, Victor leaned forward and pressed his lips gently to Yuuri’s, feeling the flush of his cheeks warming his skin and his long dark lashes fluttering softly on the bridge of his nose as they breathed quietly in each other’s orbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original work has NSFW content, but this will not. There may be some allusions. Hope that's alright with everyone!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some ups, some downs, some mistakes, some feelings.  
You know, the usual.

Yuuri left Victor’s apartment with tingling lips and a list of Victor’s favorite songs. The little list was very important because it was physical proof that Victor wanted him to visit again. There were half a dozen songs on the paper, and Yuuri thought he could stretch that to at least a half dozen visits.

Dates?

Yuuri touched his fingertips lightly to his lips and nodded.

_Dates. _

…

The first time Yuuri saw Victor post-kiss, Victor did not see him. He wasn’t hiding from the man, not at all. He spotted Victor’s brilliant silver hair shining in the sunlight as Victor was ducking into the station. Yuuri lit up in such a warm bloom his mouth opened before he could think.

“V-!”

His throat squeezed around the sound and silenced him. The choking pain was nothing compared to watching Victor enter the turnstiles and disappear from view completely before Yuuri could even manage to breathe in again.

“Ngh….”

Yuuri decided not to tell Victor he had seen him the next time they spoke.

…

That evening, Yuuri’s mother called. She suggested, in a voice a little too bright to be casual, that Yuuri maybe go down to see his speech therapist in America. She’d gotten an email from her asking after Yuuri since he’d petered off of going. Said she missed him, which Yuuri figured was some sort of mistake in English to Japanese translation. He said, “Maybe I’ll stop by.”

Maybe he would.

And maybe he wouldn’t.

…

The next time Yuuri _spoke _to Victor was at their next date in Victor’s apartment.

He’d practiced the first song on Victor’s list for the entire week until their next day off, just for him. It was nice to have an audience again, although no audience emitted the light and warmth of Victor and his dog, sitting on the couch with a blanket over his knees and a candle smelling like spice and sandalwood flickering on the coffee table. It was raining again, the sky a deep, opaque blue, but the light inside was soft and yellow and plush.

The vibrations of the bow through his fingertips and up his arm settled slowly, and he allowed them to cease completely before lowering his violin. Victor clapped and patted the cushion next to him on the sofa, smiling up at Yuuri.

He walked over, settling the instrument away off to the side and sitting by Victor’s side as Victor lifted the blanket over his legs too.

“That was wonderful, Yuuri. I hope it wasn’t a bother giving you songs to play like that.”

“They’re s-songs I like too! S-so I worked hard so that you could, could hear them.”

“I’m looking forward to hearing each of them.”

He set his hand on top of Yuuri’s, running long fingers over his knuckles and between his joints. Yuuri’s eyes caught on the watch on Victor’s wrist, visible as the sleeve of his shirt slipped up.

“O-Oh! The last t-train is about t-to leave! I’m sorry I st-stayed so late!”

“Not at all.” Victor gripped Yuuri’s hand lightly. “If you’d like… I’d be happy for you to stay over. If you don’t have anything to do tomorrow, of course.”

Yuuri’s face burst into a starburst of a blush. Their first kiss had felt to Yuuri like something of a revolution, and the warmth curling in his gut now both warmed his heart and closed off his throat. Victor leaned forward, one large hand cradling the back of his neck and their lips met. Yuuri’s back was pushed into the stiff arm rest and his chest lifted instinctually towards Victor’s to relieve the pressure. He gasped into Victor’s mouth as their hips pressed together and he jolted, grasping onto Victor’s shirt to ground himself and turning his head away for a moment just to breathe. Victor looked down at him with his blue eyes almost completely blacked out by his pupils. Before Yuuri could catch his breath, the weight of Victor’s body left him completely and he turned his head back to see him on his ass on the floor, panting hard with his eyes wide and hair disheveled.

“Ah… sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll… go put on some tea.”

Yuuri didn’t move as Victor left the room, Makkachin following behind and looking up at him with a whine. He stared blankly up at the ceiling, hand clutching at the fabric over his heart, and wondered what he’d done wrong.

_I turned my head away, but I didn’t want him to stop… or maybe I did? Did I make him think I didn’t like it? Do I apologize?_

He flung his head to the side and sighed, closing his eyes. He was so bad at this kind of thing. When he opened his eyes again, they caught on the books on the coffee table, hidden under a magazine or two.

Books on stuttering.

He heard Victor return, and could smell the minty steam wafting from the teacups, but he didn’t look up as he said, “Y-You said it didn’t bother you.”

“Hm?” He sat down beside Yuuri, leaving a few inches of space between them. “Oh! Of course that’s true, but that doesn’t mean you can’t cure it. It’s okay. If you calm down before you speak, you’ll speak more normally.”

“E-E-Even if I c-calm down, I won’t, I won’t speak better. I-It’s not that easy to c-cure. Y-You shouldn’t get your h-hopes up.” His hands were wrinkling the pages of the book in their grip, but he didn’t think to put it down. He hadn’t looked at Victor since he’d come back in the room.

“Don’t give up so easily! Pessimism won’t help. We’ll work towards it together, we just have to take it seriously and follow these treatment plans.” When he reached forward to put his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, Yuuri leapt away, knocking the coffee table and spilling a wave of tea over the lips of the mugs and onto the books, and spun to face Victor.

“D-Don’t s-say it l-like i-i-it’s so easy! I-I-I kn-know it’s w-weird! I-If I c-could fix this, d-don’t you th-think I-I would have a-already?!”

“Yuuri, don’t you think you’re unable to fix it because you believe that you can’t? You’re not facing this head-on. You don’t practice, you avoid the words you struggle with….” He petered off, running his hand through his bangs, brows creased.

“Ngh-”

“It’s like you haven’t even tried at all.”

All the fight left Yuuri as the first tears spilled over his cheeks.

_Is Victor the same? _

_Does he think I’m incapable because of my stutter? _

_As if… as if I haven’t given up my dreams for this bullshit, like I don’t even care?_

So, Yuuri did what he’s always done: he ran.

…

“You look a little pale.”

Victor looked up tiredly as Chris came into his office.

“Do I?” he replied flatly, looking resolutely at his computer screen.

“I’m especially worried because you didn’t book a room for the meeting today.”

“Yeah,” a new voice prodded. “This kind of thing isn’t like you.” Mila slipped in behind Chris, closing the door behind her.

“You don’t look well, _cheri._ Are you sure you don’t want to reschedule?”

Victor stood, stretching his sore back. “No, it’s fine.” He grabbed a file folder from his desk and turned to walk out when Mila’s voice made him pause.

“Oh, books on stuttering?” She flipped through the book that had been hidden under the folder. “A lot of people aren’t aware of this disability. My brother has it.” Her eyes flicked up to his. “Why are you reading this?”

“Um, I know someone with a stutter, and when I told them they can fix it by speaking more carefully they got… upset.”

He wanted desperately for Yuuri to reach the potential Victor saw so clearly inside him; to think he had given up on his dream to play violin, that the rest of the world was denied his brilliance because of his own crippling self-doubt…. He knew Yuuri lacked confidence, but that kind of thing could be fixed.

“Of course they did!” Mila yelled out suddenly. “It’s the total opposite! For us, we can’t speak when we’re nervous, so that’s how we think of others. In reality, for them, they’re nervous _because _they can’t speak. It’s like telling someone who can’t swim that if they just calm down, they won’t drown.”

“I wonder what that feels like,” Victor questioned softly.

“Well, we can’t know for sure of course. But from what I’ve heard from my brother, it hurts. They want so badly to get the words out but their throat closes up, their mind goes blank; he said it was like trying to breathe underwater.”

In his mind’s eye, he imagined Yuuri drowning—those little _ngh_ sounds that he would make, trying to crawl back up for air. Bubbles of words floating up and popping before they could be heard.

“That sounds… so _painful._”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is still considering his own feelings on intimacy (which isn't really a theme in the manga, but I think is still an aspect of the story). 
> 
> Lemme know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving forward, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter :,)

_Ding!_

_“I’m really sorry. You don’t have to respond, but I want you to know that.”_

Victor had texted a lot since their fight. Yuuri read each text, and then deleted them. He didn’t know what to say to him. He missed him, he liked him, he was angry with him, he forgave him, he didn’t.

Yuuri curled around himself, the light from his phone illuminating his face, although no one was around to see him, or the dark circles under his eyes.

“Wh- ngh. Wh-”

_Shit, shit, I can’t even say one word!_

He coughed into his fist, curling further until his forehead was pressed to his knees, waiting for it to pass. What if his voice left him completely, choking him every time he opened his mouth?

When he fell asleep that night, he dreamed of a silent world.

…

Victor’s very being felt unbalanced; he was top heavy, all the weight settled on his shoulders and the top of his head, pushing him down onto the concrete as he walked into the office building.

The woman sitting at the front desk was Honey’s friend, the dark haired woman from the confrontation in the hallway. He thinks she’s there every day, but he hadn’t paid enough attention to be sure

“Um… excuse me?”

“Yes? Oh! V- Um, Mr. Nikiforov.” She looked so nervous it made Victor uncomfortable. “I’m- I’m sorry about the other day. I’m sorry I just stood and watched.” Her gaze skirted over Victor’s face, flickering quickly to his eyes before settling somewhere just behind his head.

Victor sighed. “I’d like to apologize too.”

“Huh?” Her eyes finally met his. “No, that’s not….”

He was too tired to argue with her over blame; he had a mission here. “By the way, I’m looking for the man that was with us then, Yuuri. Do you know when he works?”

“From the cleaning department, right? Sorry, our cleaning is contracted, so I don’t have that information. Try checking in the cleaners’ locker room?”

“Alright. Thank you very much.” He smiled at her, and felt part of him balance out again.

The woman watched him go, and thought to herself, _“He’s changed.”_

…

Yuuri walked out of the locker room that afternoon for lunch with his earbuds in and his head down, watching his feet step on the linoleum floor, unconsciously avoiding the cracks between the tiles. A pair of expensive leather shoes entered his vision suddenly and he stopped walking. He could smell Victor’s cologne, and inhaled deeply, letting it calm him as he looked up.

“Yuuri. I’m sorry to… ambush you like this, but, can we talk?”

The effort it took Yuuri to delete each of the texts sent his way was nothing compared to looking the man in the eye and denying him. So he nodded, following Victor quietly to his office, standing awkwardly off to the side as he closed the door behind them. Even Yuuri’s breaths felt too loud in the quiet room.

“I want to apologize. I didn’t educate myself properly on your disability and I hurt you as a result. I’m so sorry.” Victor bowed his head. “I didn’t understand, and while I was thinking of you, I got ahead of myself. I want you to know that what I want most is for you to thrive, and achieve the things I know very well that you can. You have the ability to _move_ people, Yuuri, and I myself am proof of that.” He reached out and held Yuuri’s hand in both of his, and Yuuri went willingly, grasping each other’s’ arms and leaning into each other.

He had been hurt many times, by many people over the years. It was easy to label Victor the same and run from the pain of getting attached and being let down. He could blame himself for it, _would _blame himself for it; but he couldn’t deny that none of the people who had hurt him had ever valued his forgiveness liked Victor. Holding tightly onto each other as they were now, Yuuri gave his forgiveness freely.

“I-I’m also, ngh, s-sorry for r-running away, and-and o-of course I f-forgive you!” Yuuri watched Victor smile at him, and it felt like the sun warming his skin.

Victor slumped forward onto Yuuri, hiding his forehead in his neck. His breath whispered against his skin as he murmured, “I’m so relieved,” and collapsed entirely, making Yuuri stagger back against the wall just to stay upright.

“V-Victor?”

There was no response. Victor’s eyes were closed, and he began to slip from Yuuri’s arms lifelessly.

“Victor!”

Yuuri hugged him close, afraid to let him fall.

_I don’t understand what’s wrong! I have to- I have to find someone who can help. We just managed to connect again, he can’t- he can’t be hurt! I don’t want to lose him again._

With the greatest care, he rested Victor against the wall, protecting his head with his palm as he leaned it back.

Then he shot out of the room and into the bustling office space. People speed-walked back and forth, phones rang loudly, and Yuuri froze. A man collided into his back and he tripped forward.

“Sorry! Are you okay? You shouldn’t just stand there!” And before Yuuri could ask for help, he was gone.

He could already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he wiped it away with a trembling hand. His heartbeat seemed to vibrate his body and rush in his ears. He focused, and breathed in.

“U-U-U-Um, E-EXCUSE ME!”

The room went silent.

It was far more horrifying than the chaos of a few moments ago, and Yuuri could feel their eyes like fingers bruising his skin, but the feeling of Victor’s strong arms ghosted around his body and he forged on.

“S-S-Someone’s c-c-c-c-collapsed! C-C-C-Come h-help!”

Mr. Giacometti ran up to him, grabbing his shoulders.

“Who and where?”

“V-V- ngh, Mr. N-Nikiforov. In h-his office, h-he just f-fainted!”

“Got it, I’m going to go take a look, everyone continue with your work,” Mr. Giacometti called back into the room as he rushed away.

Yuuri bent over, trying to catch his breath, wishing he could just hide away from all the prying eyes. He wanted to go back to Victor.

“Hey, can you walk?”

Warm hands once again settled on his shoulders, and a light perfume filled his senses. It was floral and fresh, like honeysuckles, and reminded him of Hasetsu. The hands led him carefully into a side room, giving him time until he could uncurl and accept a cup of water.

It was Honey. She stood before him with her eyebrows pinched.

“I… take back what I said before. I’m sorry.”

Yuuri stared back with wide eyes. He opened his mouth but was saved from replying with the reappearance of Mr. Giacometti, who wore an inscrutable expression.

“H-How is he?” Yuuri whispered.

“He’d dead asleep. I thought he’d fainted but he woke up when I called him, then just… fell asleep again. I think he hasn’t been getting enough sleep, so I just left him to rest.”

Yuuri finally let his knees give out and he landed solidly on the linoleum.

“Oh, thank god.”

…

Yuuri escorted Victor home that evening, holding his fancy briefcase and acting a little like a mother hen—or maybe a devoted boyfriend, Victor thought to himself, and smiled.

“Come on in,” he said, unlocking the door and pushing it open for Yuuri to enter first. Yuuri set his briefcase and his own backpack on the floor by the sofa, giving Makkachin a pat on the head, as Victor turned to shut the door quietly behind them and lock it for the night. As he turned back into the room, his arms were suddenly filled with Yuuri, plush and warm and trembling.

“Yuuri….”

“I-I w-was so s-scared. I th-thought y-you wouldn’t w-wake up.”

Victor lifted his arms and wrapped them around Yuuri, squeezing him tightly and breathing him in. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I was just… I felt guilty.” His arms slid down under Yuuri’s hips and lifted him up. Yuuri (predictably) blushed beautifully and gave a little _eep!_ as Victor carried him to the couch and sat down, setting him carefully in his lap. Their noses were close to touching.

“I kept reading about stuttering, you know. I want to learn. Conversation practice really does help, which is good, because you and I have a lot to talk about I think. We’ll go at your pace, Yuuri. You don’t have to worry with me.”

“V-Victor…” Yuuri sighed as he leaned closer. Victor brought his hand to his cheek, caressing it softly. He plucked off his glasses and placed them on the coffee table.

“I’m so happy,” Victor whispered into his lips right before they met. Yuuri slipped down slowly against the couch with Victor arms cradling his neck and back, keeping them pressed together. “Say it again.”

“V-Victor…”

“Again.”

_“Victor!”_

He cried his name into his mouth as Victor smoothed his hands along Yuuri’s hips, reveling in the swell of his stomach peeking out from his shirt, and his strong thighs.

Victor kissed him reverently, and this time Yuuri didn’t turn away. Instead he grasped at Victor, whispering into his ear.

“Sh-share this w-with me?”

Victor could feel the heat of his flushed skin even as he shifted back to look Yuuri in the eye.

“It’s my privilege, love.”

Yuuri surged up to meet him again. They shared their shuddering breaths as they moved together, lips parting in trembling moans as their clothing fell to the side, forgotten as Victor picked Yuuri up again and carried him deeper into the sweet quiet of the apartment to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

…

The birds sang in the morning, and Yuuri hummed along unconsciously with his eyes still closed against the early sun, chin propped comfortably on the soft pillow and Victor’s arm resting around his naked waist.

“Hm, you must really love to sing.”

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open again and he curled to the side to look into Victor’s ocean eyes.

“W-Was I singing out loud? I-I’m s-sorry!”

Victor snuggled closer, poking his cold nose against Yuuri’s collarbone and making him jump a little. Their legs naturally moved to twine together, and Yuuri began to run his hand through Victor’s hair.

“No, it’s very relaxing.” He looked up at Yuuri and smiled, shifting higher so that their lips were just a few centimeters apart. “That Tchaikovsky was on the list of songs I gave you, right?”

“Y-Yeah…?”

“About that… I have a confession. That song is actually- well, that song is actually the piece for next year’s violin concert.” Yuuri gasped, and his hand paused in Victor’s bedhead curls. “You can still work at our building as you attend concerts, but I think it would be a great opportunity. I thought of choosing a song used for the college entrance exam, but….”

“B-But… I-I’ve a-already given up on music.”

“I think you should give it another try.” Victor reached down to hold Yuuri’s other hand between his. “I don’t want you to give up on something you love because of your stutter.” He kissed his knuckles. “One step at a time.”

Victor watched Yuuri think; watched the way his eyes darted back and forth and his brow furrowed, and from this close he could see the tiny twitches of his lips as he thought about what he wanted to say.

Victor treasured every word he gave him.

“If I do th-this… w-will you c-come to, c-come to hear me?”

He finally tugged him the last few centimeters into his chest so that their lips met, parting sweetly like the petals of a rose.

“Of course, Yuuri,” Victor murmured. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :,,,,) I hope that NSFW transition was ok???  
Anyone who wants to is welcome to fill in the missing scene for those who are interested, just make sure to let me know! <3


	8. Amabile Amoroso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final vignette in the lives of Victor and Yuuri, although they continue far beyond.

With Victor’s support, Yuuri started to attend violin lessons with a woman near Victor’s apartment. She was older, had a sweet smile, and spoke to Yuuri with the respect of one musician to another.

“Once more, please, from the top,” she said quietly, swaying in time with Yuuri as he played. “Ah! Right there.” She stood and pointed at his sheet music. _“’Amabile amoroso.’ _You’re hitting the notes correctly, but you need to play it tenderly, sweetly. This part calls upon imagery of love and passion; you must feel the music accordingly.”

_Love, huh? _Yuuri thought, as he began to play once more.

…

Yuuri left his lesson dissatisfied. At work, he cleaned methodically; at one point he had tried to empty the same trashcan three times, head spinning with the words of his teacher.

_Amiable… love… sweet? But not coaxingly…._

He jumped at the sound of the door clicking shut, turning around quickly.

“I thought it was you in here.”

“V-Victor!” Yuuri smiled at him as he walked over and rested his hands on his hips. “Ah! C-Careful, I’ll g-get your s-suit soapy.”

Victor leaned in until Yuuri’s back was pressing against the cool glass of the window, chilling his skin through his shirt. “You’re still coming over tonight, right?”

“Y-Yes….” He was cut off from saying more as Victor’s lips pressed to his, tongue working its way deliciously into his mouth. His hand slid up Yuuri’s arm and under his rubber glove until they could grasp fingers, glove flopping unceremoniously to the floor as they kissed. Yuuri’s mind was quiet, finally, for a few moments. Victor leaned the slightest bit back, breaths still warm between them.

“I wish work would end sooner.”

“M-Me, too.”

…

That evening, Yuuri played his piece for Victor, in every sense of the word ‘for’. It was as much for Victor’s heart as it was for his ears. The notes lifted into the air and danced, and as Yuuri played he thought back on the story he was supposed to be telling, of love and passion. Even with his eyes closed, Victor’s blue eyes, warm and clear, filled his vision; his lips followed, pink and plush; his skin, alabaster and freckled; the way it would flush a floral red, like the blush of a soft peach, beaded with crystals of sweet sweat when they—

Yuuri stopped playing with a resounding _schreeech_ as his face exploded into a fiery blush. He promptly crouched into a ball, tucking his violin between his stomach and lap as he pressed his burning face into his hands, avoiding Victor at all costs as he fluttered around worriedly, asking, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Yuuri said, “Y-Yes. I j-just n-need more t-t-time to p-practice.” With careful and deliberate movements, he uncurled, placed his violin back in its case, loosened the bow and replaced it as well, then stood. Victor looked at him apprehensively, until Yuuri surged forward, wrapping his legs around Victor’s hips and sending them both crashing back onto the couch as their lips collided. Makkachin leaped up from her nap and bounced into the pile of her humans to join in on the fun. Her barks joined in with the sound of their laughter, filtering into the jumbled sounds of the city at night, and Yuuri realized he finally understood.

_Amabile amoroso, _indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XOXO to you all!! I hope you enjoyed this little AU <3 See you in my next story, whatever that may be! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed~


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